

"The Star of Empire'' 








E 642 
.D22 


ADDRESS 


Copy 1 


By 






JASPER T. DARLING 




Delivered at 




Elkhart, Indiana 




On 




Memorial Day 




1911 




.-#". 




^J 




Under auspices of Indiana National Guard, the G. A. R., 




Woman's Relief Corps and kindred bodies. 



^^^. 



REPRINTED FROM "TRUTH 



<r 



One of the features of the afternoon services was the address by 
Jasper T. Darling, of Chicago. His talk was pleasing, instructive 
and eloquent, }he audience being held throughout the address, despite 
the intense heat of the day. 



Comrades, Men of the National Guard, 
Ladies and Fellow Citizens: 

Cover them over with beautiful flowers. 
Deck them with garlands, those broth- 
ers of ours: . 
Lying so silent by night and by day, 
Sleeping the years of their manhood 
away: 

Year's they had marked for the joys of 

the brave; 
Year's they must waste in the sloth of 

the grave. 
All the bright laurels, that promised to 

bloom, 
Fell to the earth \v'hen they went to the 

tomb. 

Oover the thousands who sleep far 

away — 
Sleep where their friends cannot find 

them today; 
They who in mountain and hillside and 

dell 
Rest where they wearied and lie where 

they fell. 

, Softly the grass-blade creeps 'round 

their repose; 
S^VKeetly above them the wildftow-ret 

blows; • 

Zephyrs of freedom fly gently o'erhead. 
Whispering names ot our patriot-dead. 

Bravely the cross of their country they 

bore, 
Words of devotion they wrote with their 

gore; 
Grandlv they grasped for a garland of 

light. 
Catching the mantle of death-darkened 

night. 

Inspired by sentiments such as 
these, we have assembled today to of- 
fer our garlands of love at the shrine 
where valor sleeps. 

Knightly men and queenly women 
never forget their dead. They may 
not hear our songs, they may be in- 
sensible of our praises, but we shall 
be exalted as we praise them. 

There has been no day recorded in 
all the long calendar of time, except 
the "Holy Sabbath," so reverently ob- 
served, as our Nation's "Memorial 
Day." 

And while it has been thus desig- 
nated and thus safe-guarded by legal 
enactment, yet, had not a deep and 
lasting love of its sentiments been en- 
shrined within the hearts of a true and 



loyal people, soon it would have .been 
forgotten and long ere this it would 
have ceased to awaken the souls of 
men. 

And were it not for the spirit of' pa- 
triotism which quickens the heart and 
fires the soul in the contemplation of 
brave deeds and unselfish sacrifice; 
then this day would never have been 
recorded upon the pages which tell 
the story of that heroic period when 
this republic, torn and trembling be- 
neath the mighty tread of war, was 
rescued and redeemed from the mail- 
ed hands, sworn and struggling to de- 
stroy it. 

As if by one common impulse all, 
who love liberty and appreciate its 
great worth, assemble within this sub- 
lime edifice of Freedom, and study 
anew the lessons which emblazon the 
brightest pages of our Nation's his- 
tory — lessons which were written 
around the watchfires, upon the weary 
march, amid the roar of battle, and 
where famine clutched each bony 
throat — where service and sacrifice 
won the unfading laurels which the 
hand of devotion so tenderly bequeaths 
today. 

Forget the graves where your de- 
fenders sleep and soon all the legisla- 
tion of the land in just recognition of 
valiant deeds would become a mock- 
ery and be cast aside amid the buried 
archives of bygone days. 

In all the ages since history began 
every nation, worthy its name, receiv- 
ed its most exalted baptism in , the 
arena of mortal conflict; but,;i)L re- 
mained for this nation to dedicate a 
day for the indulgence of sacred mem- 
ories, thereby paying homage, . alike, 
to the humble hero, whose penciled 
epitaph is but the unrevealing name, 
"Unknown," and him, whose towering 
shaft or granite pile tells of imperish- 
able renown. 

And so, in keeping with these senti- 
ments, may these memorials be per- 
petuated, not upon parchment alone, 



ibut in tlie devoted heart oT a lofty pa- 
triotism, and in the heroic manhood 
of a brave and chivalrous republic 
throughout the great centuries to 
<5ome. 

The lessons wh.icli may be learned 
in the school of Freedom's civiliza- 
tion are broader than biography and 
far greater than the power of gifted 
speech to proclaim. 

At these altar-fires of patriotic love 
torches of true devotion should be 
lighted anew year by year, and gen- 
eration following generation, to burn 
with unceasing light along the aisles 
of time, tfirowing outward their far- 
reaching rays as freely and as gener- 
ously as the rich, red blood, poured 
out over countless fields where bay- 
onets fiashed — where batteries roar- 
ed — where the "Grim Reaper" gather- 
de his appaling harvest, but from 
whence the rallying ranks of the sur- 
vivors never turned back until the 
majesty of right prevailed — until the 
"Divine Law" of human liberty was 
redeemed, and the bonds of Union 
were made indestructable forever. 

How beautiful the vision as we 
look along the vista of oncoming time: 

The broadening infiuences of our 
Republic in the world's advancement 
reveal an ever growing glory around 
the victories which made this Union 
what it is, and what it stands for to- 
day. 

In one vast commonwealth it rises 
like a consummate star above the hor- 
izon of Nations, its beacon fires light- 
ing the dome of Liberty's skies; and 
making brighter the pathway of pro- 
gress for all the civilizations of the 
earth. 

But, my fellow contrymen, were it 
not for the heroic deaths on many 
fields made holier by patriot's blood, 
and were it not that our emblem was 
borne onward by brave hands to the 
throne of final triumph, then all the 
grandeur of this great Republic would 
have faded and fallen, even as did 
other proud nations of the past, leav- 
ing this land a helpless and hopeless 
prey to alien greed, to alien ambition 
and to the destroying hand of alien 
powers. 

What a lesson has thus been be- 
queathed for the unborn ages! 

When the great hour struck, had 
not the sons of the North rallied in 
support of the stars and stripes — had 
their souls lacked the fires of faith, 



and had their hearts been found want- 
ing before the sheeted flames of Trea- 
son's tempests, then the light of hu- 
man liberty would have gone out; 
and this Temple of lofty hopes and 
high ambitions would have closed its 
doors in darkness forever! 

On bended knees both North and 
South should assemble before the 
graves of our Nation's dead and give 
thanks unto God for all the patriotism 
— for all the sacrifices — and for all the 
sufferings that saved this Republic 
from the blind furies of Rebellion's 
storms. 

The men of battles and campaigns 
may say but little of the part they in- 
dividually played upon that mighty 
stage of human tragedies; but the 
world knows, and it should never for- 
get, that, by the valor of those who 
perished where heroism saluted death 
in the name of liberty and humanity, 
and by the virtue of those who sur- 
vived the storms, this benign Re- 
public was redeemed to become the 
brightest day-star in the firmament of 
nations. 

From the days of the Revolution 
our flag had been looked upon as false 
to its teachings and untrue to the pro- 
fessions made. 

One of the world's most renowned 
poets — Thomas Campbell — pictured it 
in these scathing words, 

"United State.s, your banner wears 
Two emblems — one of fame; 
Alas! the other that it bears 
Reminds us of your shame. 

Your standard's constellation types 

White Freedom's by its stars; 

But, what's the meaning of the 

stripes? 
They mean your negro's scars." 

That was a true conception of the 
Stars and Stripes until Abraham Lin- 
coln wrote the Emancipation Decree, 
and Patriotism enforced it with heroic 
bayonets in the hands of the boys in 
blue. 

But at what a price was it purified 
and its shame erased! 

At what a price was it preserved 
that it might wave in glory and honor 
along the pathway up which all peo- 
ples of the earth shall come in Grod's 
appointed time! 

And notwithstanding the cost, the 
penalties paid in blood and tears and 
travail for disobedience of Divine 
Laws — notwithstanding all this, with 
what conscienceless determination un- 



scrupulous men attempt to grasp at 
the great and growing opportunities 
made possible by those whose mem- 
ories we revere today! 

Around the watchfires of war, you, 
my comrades, learned well the lesson 
which should be heeded and respected 
throughout all time — that lesson of 
• "eternal vigilance — the price of lib- 
erty." 

Lest we forget, and that the rising 
generations may the better know, it is 
well each recurring Memorial to 
calmly take a retrospective view, and 
consider how near the engulfing tides 
this Nation trod during her darkest 
years. 

It is well that a fair comparison be 
made, that a lesson may be drawn, 
showing tile causes and conditions 
which, in the ages past, precipitated 
other nations and other peoples down 
to their doom forever. 

And when we so consider, we find 
that there is but one reasonable con- 
clusion which the fair mind can reach. 
The victories, achieved by those who 
wore the blue, saved this land from 
the shadows of a night so dark and so 
desolate that no human being would 
venture the portrayal of a picture in 
worthy colors. 

For a few moments let us take a 
retrospective view. 

In vision let us contemplate the 
rise and fall of Nations, and trace the 
impress of the Divine Hand on the 
great historic page. 

As in the East the first light of day 
appears, so in the distant East there 
appeared the first faint light of civili- 
zation's dawn. 

In the morning of time China rose, 
giving forth her timid evidence of life, 
only to lapse into added centuries of 
silence and sleep. 

The glories of Egypt, once the pride 
and power of the Eastern world, faded 
and crumbled into desolation and de- 
cay. 

Other Nations appeared, and for a 
while they were lighted up by the ma- 
jestic orb of civilization, as it moved 
over them, and then sank down into 
the all-containing sepluchre, while the 
"Stars of Empire" moved steadily to 
the West along the pathway of the 
sun. 



And, as he advances through hi& 
storied and mysterious zodiac, we see 
him rising to his zenith above a proud 
and imperious Nation, which, with 
iron hand, dominates the Eastern 
world. 

For ages Rome ruled with a power 
sublime and a sovereignty complete. 

But at last luxury and riotuous liv- 
ing undermined the very foundations 
of her National life. 

Vice overcame virtue. 

Sensuality was wedded to Slavery, 
and licentiousness led the Nation 
along a pathway illumined by the "red 
lights" of crime and shame. 

Immorality intoxicated her soul, 
and gnawed at the very fibres of her 
heart. 

Unrighteousness so cankered and 
corroded her being that she became 
the victim of barbarian hosts. 

Amid the temples of her fame, and 
beside the monuments of her renown, 
Rome fell. 

She had disobeyed God's laws, and 
she faded, even as into a dream of 
things that were. 

And, as the shadows of night fell, 
like a funeral pall, over that hapless 
Empire, we see the "Herald of State" 
moving to the Westward, the "ancient 
days" closed forever, and the history 
of the "Mediaeval Period," with all 
its cruelties, about to begiij. 

We unfold the alluring pages, and 
we read the story of another thousand 
years, telling of conflicts and of car- 
nage and how the tyranny of mon- 
archs trampled down the rights of 
man — and how they were wont to as- 
semble their subserviant hosts, fight- 
ing for position and added power upon 
the chessboard of conflicting Common- 
wealths. 

But, as sure as heaven's voice is 
heard in the thunderbolts, God was 
leading the way, and helping to up- 
lift mankind. 

Divine laws had long been disre- 
garded, and the prayers of human 
hearts were heard, sending up their 
appeals to high heaven against the 
tyranny of monarchs and thrones. 

And so the crimes and cruelties of 
Mediaevalism were doomed to give 
way before the steady growth of lof- 



tier sentiments, and loftier emotions, 
fast possessing the souls of men. 

Out of the darkness of the "Dark 
Ages." God's hand guided the frail 
bark of the mariner across the un- 
tried and trackless deep to the shores 
of the new world. 

He had reserved this land where 
truth and justice were finally to tri- 
umph, and crown humanities hopes. 

And this marked the morning of a 
new life for civilization in the onward 
march of time. 

But how truly it has been said: 
"The hand of God worketh by hidden 
and mysterious ways," for here, on 
these shores, the greatest battle 
ground for the uplifting of humanity 
was destined to be. 

Here the strength of a Throne w'as 
to be tested in the crucible of war, 
and tyranny was doomed to go down 
in everlasting defeat. 

Here the majesty of American man- 
hood, made brighter and stronger 
around the w^atchfires • of patriotic 
zeal, was to receive its baptism on 
fields made red with patriot's blood. 

Across the seas the mailed hand 
was stretched to oppress and sub- 
jugate, and the voice of a monarch de- 
manded obedience to his claimed 
rights of Divine Powder, 

Then the spirit of a new^-born life 
rose up, and brave hearts and loyal 
hands wrote a decree which said that 
oppression must depart forever from 
these shores. 

The majesty of heroic manhood 
stood erect and defied the edict of a 
kind. 

The Declaration of Independence 
w^as written defining the heaven-or- 
dained heritage of man. 

Plowshares w-ere forged into bayo- 
nets, and patriotism declared its reso- 
lution to defend, if need be, man's in- 
alienable rights in the arena of mortal 
conflict. 

A new flag was made, with stripes 
of red for valor, of white for purity, 
with a field of blue for justice, and, 
within that field, they set a cluster of 
starsi— one for each State and all uni- 
ted i.i?,,ilie bonds of a "National Un- 
ion."' '/ 



"British red coats" and "Hessian 
Hirelings" assailed this new flag, and 
every principle for which it stood; but 
God had raised up a Washington and 
a Hamilton and the rugged patriots 
who wrote across that banner, in let- 
ters of blood and flame, the name of 
Lexington, Bunker Hill, Concord, Sar- 
atoga, Valley Forge and Yorktown — 
each succeeding field cementing the 
bonds of Union stronger and stronger 
by the priceless carnage, so freely and 
so generously given. 

At last, after almost eight years of 
hardships, where marching feet made 
red the drifting snows, where priva- 
tions, unparalelled in all history, w^ere 
endured — after it all there came the 
glory of a free and independent Re- 
public! 

Time swept on its rapid flight which 
tested the Nation strength and, amid 
the struggles and dangers of other 
years, the pen of Genius traced these 
heroic lines: 

"Lift up your eyes, desponding freemen, 
Fling- to the winds your needless fears; 
He, who unfurled your beautiovis ban- 
ner, 
Says it shall wave a. thousand years. 

"A Thousand years, my own Columbia; 
'Tis the sclad days so long foretold, 
'Tis the glad morn, whose early twilight 
Washington saw in times of old. 

And so the "Star of Empire," which 
had completed here the cycle of his 
wondrous course, stood at mid Heav- 
ens over this valiant people of the 
Western World. 

For forty centuries he had' journey- 
ed, and here he shone upon this 
Temple of God's covenant, here to re- 
main unless some destroying power 
should come to overwhelm and sweep 
it away. ~ 

Prosperity multiplied until, em- 
boldened by their success in controll- 
ing the reins of Government, the great 
South, fast growing into an aristocracy 
through the gift of the bondsman's 
toil, became restive under the restraint 
of a centralized power. 

And so Northern hearts, beating to 
the transports of joy under Freedom's 
flag, were fast becoming the objects 
of hate by Southern hearts, beating 
to the love of human slavery. 

Like the sins which once under- 
mined the power of Rome, so the sins 
of that unholy institution were as 
surely polluting the heart, poisoning 
the brain and intoxicating the soul of 



« the slave-ridden South, while her lead- 
ers, emboldened by their long domina- 
tion, were resolved to rule, or to deso- 
late their domain with the mailed 
hand of civil war. 

Southern press and pulpit turned 
their half closed eyes backward, 
claiming to find in the remote ages 
the Divine right of shackles and 
chains. 

And, while they were clamoring 
and demanding the privilege of ex- 
tended power, treasonable hands were 
stealthily preparing for the supreme 
struggle. 

For a time only the mutterings of 
discord were heard, and then the 
harsh voice of disunion began to chal- 
lenge the strength of the constitution 
itself. 

These sentiments continued to grow 
and become more intense until the 
startling truth dawned upon the peace- 
loving of the land that the stability 
of tile Republic must ere long be 
tested amid the tumult of embattling 
blade?, or allowed to crumble and per- 
ish from the face of the earth for- 
ever.- 

In the halls of Congress master- 
minds met, and the passions of de- 
bate intensified until the North awoke 
to the realization that these mutter- 
ings from Rebellious lips were like 
distant thunder roar, faint at first, but 
approaching, ever growing stronger 
and stronger until the tempest was 
destined to burst forth in all the 
strength of its gathering fury. 

For half a century a few leaders of 
the South had moulded the minds of 
the masses, even as wax is moulded 
in the master's hand, ever preparing 
the way for the destroying test of 
deadly steel which they knew was 
sure to come. 

Ho:)ing to turn the tide, to stem 
the thickening storm which could end 
only through the martyrdom of vast 
myriads, such as those around whose 
gra'-es the feet of millions tread today, 
that fearless champion of the consti- 
tution — Daniel Webster — appealed 
with all the strength of his transcend- 
ent power. 

Standing beside the cradle of his 
fondest hopes, pleading for the life of 
the infant Republic, its enemies revil- 
ing it and resolved to tear it down, 
he spoke as one inspired — as one be- 
holding a .«ad vision afar. 



And could he see contending hosts 
of blue and gray? 

Could he see the old flag, crowned 
with her shining stars, emblematic of 
unbroken States, confronted on two 
thousand fields of human blood, chal- 
lenged by a new flag cursed with the 
bars of hapless bondage? 

Could he feel the lessening heart- 
beat of the Republic as the blood of 
her bravest was flowing fainter and 
fainter, fast ebbing away? 

Could he behold the valley of de- 
feat at Bull Run, or the glories of 
Gettysburg baptized with the blood 
of almost fifty thousand as the price 
there paid? 

And did his vision reach beyond the 
rising mists of Appomattox, that he 
might behold a new Nation — a Nation 
whose beacons were to burn so 
bright that they would illuminate the 
world ? 

Let us recall the vision. 

"I have not allowed myself to look 
beyond the Union to see what might 
lie hidden in the dark recess behind. 
I have not cooly weighed the chances 
of preserving liberty when the bonds 
that unite us together shall be broken 
asunder. I have not accustomed my- 
self to hang over the precipice of dis^ 
union to see whether, with my short 
sight, I can fathom the depth of the 
abyss below. 

"While the Union lasts we have 
high, exciting, gratifying prospects 
spread out before us and our children. 
Beyond that I seek not to penetrate 
the veil. God grant that on my vision 
never may be opened- what lies be- 
hind. 

"When my eyes shall be turned to 
behold, for the last time, the sun in 
heaven, may I not see him shining on 
the broken and dishonored fragments 
of a once glorious Union; on States 
severed, discordant, beligerant; on a 
land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, 
it may be, in fraternal blood! 

"Let their last feeble and lingering 
glance, rather, behold the gorgeous 
ensign, of the Republic, now known 
and honored throughout the earth, still 
full high advanced, its arms and tro- 
phies streaming in their original lus- 
ter, not a single stripe erased, or pol- 
luted, not a single star obscured, bear- 
ing, for its motto, no such miserable 
interrogatory as — what is all this 
worth? — nor those other words of de- 



lusion and folly — Liberty first and 
Union afterwards — but everywhere 
spread all over in characters of living 
light, blazing on all its ample folds, as 
they float over the sea and over the 
land, and in every wind under the 
whole heaven, that other sentiment, 
dear to every true American heart, 
'Liberty and Union, now and forever 
one and inseparable.' " 

These were the closing words of the 
most profound speech ever delivered 
in the Senate of the United States. 

Mr. Webster was the leading orator 
of the age, and he thundered, in logic 
sublime and eloquence unanswerable, 
his exposition of the written law. 

But there was a resolute determina- 
tion in the South which no hand could 
stay, no reason could control, and no 
power could dictate. 

There stood a bonded strength, blind 
to every interest except the expansion 
of slavery, and determined to throw 
its shadow athwart the pathway of 
Freedom's progress, no matter what 
the cost. 

The fires of passion were kindled 
and the bitterness of debate hastened 
the inevitable hour when orthorical 
voices were to give way to the roar of 
battle, where death was to be king 
where desolation was to ride supreme 
amid the furies of the storms. 

At last the all-polluting curse, nour- 
ished upon the breast of slavery, lift- 
ed its hybrid head and hissed defiance 
to the flag that Washington had un- 
furled, and beneath which he had led 
his patriot hosts to victory. 

No longer would the slave powers 
listen to his teachings — him whom the 
generations had loved to call "The 
Father of His Country" — him whose 
most earnest admonition was for the 
stiength and stability of an indivisi- 
ble Union of States. 

They refused to heed the warning 
voice Qf Jefferson who, in contemplat- 
ing the crime of slavery, said: "I trem- 
ble for my country when I refle'.l that 
God is just." 

But no! perfidious hands were 
stealthily preparing the way to battle- 
fields where bloody tragedies were to 
reveal the horrors of a patricidal war. 

Southern leaders had long since re- 
solved that the umpirage of slavery 
should rule the western world. 



They — the embroilers of the fight — 
were determined to become the high 
arbiters of every question between 
North and South. 

The forum of debate was closed. 

The forum of battle was about to 
begin. 

Magnanimity had bended its knee 
for the last time, and then the great 
heart of the North — the heart of con- 
ciliation — almost stood still. 

And would the humble sons of toil 
rise to the supreme test? 

Would they meet the military spirit 
of the imperious and impetuous South? 

Was the verdict of arms to break 
forever the bonds of Union? 

Were the anathemas of human lib- 
erty to endure? 

Must Freedom perish? 

Was the history of the Roman down- 
fall to be repeated on these shores? 

And was this no longer to be "a 
government of the people, by the peo- 
ple and for the people?" 

These were the questions" which 
could be answered only by loyal hearts 
which were soon to beat beneath the 
uniform of blue. 

These were the questions which 
could be settled only as Northern man- 
hood was to march forth to meet the 
battering engines of Rebellion's hosts. 

As Brutus poised the casca of 
treachery, and struck deep, piercing 
the mantle, and penetrating the heart 
of Caeser, so the uplifted hand of Jef- 
ferson Davis poised the dagger of 
Treason, impatient for the auspicious 
hour, then plunged it deep, hoping to 
destroy the mantle of sovereign law, 
and penetrate the heart of Liberty it- 
self. 

And as the Brutus of the ancient 
days beheld the life of the Roman 
Republic oozing out through the 
wounds of Caeser, so this Brutus of 
the modern days — Jefferson Davis — 
embittered by disappointed ambitions, 
hoped to see the life of the American 
Republic ooze out through the blood 
of those who might dare to question 
his right to commit the crime. 

But the moment the first lanyard 
was pulled, hurling his message of 
hate against the battlements of hu- 



man liberty, Northern valor sprang in- 
to life and accepted the challenge. 

As the lightning flashes and sends 
forth its fiery tongues from the bosom 
of the gathering storm, so the fires 
of battle sprang into raging tempests 
which never ceased until Treason was 
reduced to ashes and consigned to its 
ignominous and eternal tomb. 

How loyal! How true! And how 
steadfast were the hearts that beat in 
the defence of Union, and how sincere 
the voices that rent the air with their 
brave "hurrahs" amid the roar of bat- 
tle, the roll-call of the unreplying dead 
told the fateful story. 

They died in the ravines. 

They died upon the hilltops. 

They saluted death as they climbed 
the mountain sides. 

They sank down into dreamless 
sleep beneath the rolling rivers and 
roaring sea. 

They rest beneath the willows and 
the pines where only the birds break 
the silence of their repose. 

On many a field, as the night drew 
its folds about them, they sank down 
to rest in sad contemplation of the 
coming day: 

"^Comrades brave around me lying, 
Filled with thoughts^ of home and God; 
For well they know that on the mor- 
row 
Some will sleep beneath the sod. 

Tradition tells us that Greeks sat 
"combing their yellow hair before the 
fight at Thermopylae that in death 
they should be well favored." 

On the eve of Cold Harbor's gory 
struggle the Boys in Blue sewed their 
names, written on bits or white cloth 
or paper, onto their uniforms, that 
when dead they might be identified, 
and then laid down in their last liv- 
ing sleep before the breaking furies of 
that awful storm whose history was 
drenched in gushing blood. 

Beloved of liberty! They sleep 
where "glory guards, with solemn 
sound, the bivouac of the dead." 

Everywhere they fell; manhood in 
its meridian; boyhood as fair as was 
ever kissed by fond mother's lips, or 
held in love's embrace — all alike on 
thick-strewn fields where pale faces 



were turned upward to receive the 
dews of eternal night, dying that the 
Nation might live. 

But above the fire and smoke of 
battle— above the thunderbolts roar- 
ing and resounding from brazen 
throats— and above the bombs that 
flew on fiery wings. God's hand 
guided the destiny of this Republic, 
and rebuilded it stronger than ever be- 
fore. 

The vision of Daniel Webster was 
fulfilled in all the horrors of his real- 
istic dream, and his prayer was an- 
swered in fullest measure, for God haa 
closed his eyes that he might not see 
his loved land "drenched m fraternal 
blood. " 

That his vision was complete, and 
that the mutterings of Treason's ton- 
gues then heard in that august ben- 
ate did grow into voices louder than 
were ever hurled from an angry sky. 
and that the tempests of rebellion and 
the black clouds of the deadly storms 
did drench this fair land m the blood 
of America's bravest and best, the 
graves of the unreplying dead from 
the Mississippi to the sea, bear their 
mute testimony, and will to the end 
of time. 

But, beyond the storms of leaden 
hail, and through the holocausts of 
hurtling deaths, his vision was unable 
to penetrate. 

No mortal eye could then behold 
that which the blood of these dead 
purchased, and that which your valor, 
my beloved comrades, and your vic- 
tories maintained: "Liberty and Union 
now and forever, one and insepara- 
ble." 

Out of the mists of Appomatox's im- 
mortal morn, with the voice of hostile 
cannon hushed, the smoke of battle 
fading fast and forever away, there 
arose in all her queenly grace The 
Goddess of Liberty," robbed in re- 
splendent light, her diadem radiant 
with every star redeemed, her tear- 
stained eyes lighted up with hope as 
as she uttered these immortal words 
—words which had fallen from the 
lips of him who was marked so soon 
for the sacrifice. 

"With malice towards none, with 
charity for all, let us bind up the Na- 
tion's wounds. Let us do all that may 
achieve and cherish a just and lasting 
peace among ourselves and with all 
Nations" — a message such as never 



before, in all the mighty tide of time, 
had been extended to a crushed and 
conquered foe. 

The remnant of the survivors, 
wearied with years, and bent with the 
burden of their toil, are passing — 
rapidly passing away. 

Other hearts and other hands must 
keep bright the watchfires of patriot- 
ic zeal. 

Persistent attempts are now being 
made to destroy and sweep away the 
distinguishing line between National 
patriotism and sectional treason. 

All such malignant efforts should 
receive their just rebuke before dan- 
ger-fires are kindled again to menace 
all these great blessings secured 
through patriot's toil and the travail 
of Martyr's blood. 

In keeping with the sentiments of 
the day I feel that it will not be out 
of place for me to tell a story of that 
great struggle. 

Tennyson immortalized the "Charge 
of the Light Brigade," and yet, there 
was one charge in the Civil War by a 
handful of cavalrymen more sublime 
and more heroic, than that of "The 
Noble Six Hundred." 

It was at Chancellorsville. 

Stonewall Jackson had effected a 
flank movement and was driving the 
Eleventh Corps of Hooker's army in 
route and almost certain defeat. 

Time must be bought that the bat- 
teries might be brought into position 
to save the day. 

With his quick eye Gen. Pleasanton 
grasped the danger and comprehended 
what must be done. 

He ordered Maor Peter Keenan 
with his three hundred cavalrymen to 
charge against the oncoming twenty 
thousand. 

Oh! what a scene! what a sacrifice! 
a scene well worthy the entablatures 
of immortal fame. . 

The poet tells the story: 

By the shrouded gleam of the western 

skies, 
Brave Keenan looked in Pleasanton's 

eyes 
For an instant — clear, and cool, and still; 
Then with a smile, he said: "I will." 



"Cavalry, charge!" Not a man of them 

shrank. 
Their sharp, full cheer, from rank to 

rank. 
Rose joyously, with a willing breath — 
Rose like a greeting hail to death. 

Then forward they sprang, and spurred 
and clashed; 

Shouted the officers, crimson-sash'd; 

Rode well the men, each brave as his 
fellow. 

In their faded coats of the blue and yel- 
low, 

And above in the air, with an instinct 
true. 

Like a bird of war their pennon flew. 

With clank of scabbards and thunder of 

steeds. 
And blades that shine like sunlit reeds. 
And Strong, brown faces bravely pale 
For fear their proud attempt shall fail. 
Three hundred Pennsylvanians close 
On twice ten thousand gallant foes. 

Line after line the troopers came 

To the edge of the wood that was ring'd 
with flame; ' 

Rode in and sabered and shot — and fell; 

Nor came one back his wounds to tell. 

And full in the midst rose Keenan, tall. 

In the gloom, like a martyr awaiting his 
fall, 

While the circle-stroke of his saber 
swung 

'Round his head, like a halo there, lum- 
inous hung. 

Line after line; ay, whole platoons. 
Struck dead in their saddles, of brave 

dragoons, 
By the maddened horses ' were onward 

borne, 
And into the vortex flung, trampled 

and torn; 
As Keenan fought with his men, side by 

side 
So they rode, till there were no more 

to ride. 

But over them lying there, shattered and 
mute, 

What deep echo rolls? — 'Tis a death sa- 
lute 

From the cannon in place; for. heroes, 
you braved 

Your fate not in vain; the army was 
saved! 

Over them now — year following year — 

Over their graves, the pine-cones fall, 

And the whip-poo'-will chants his spec- 
ter-call; 

But they stir not again; they raise no 
cheer: 

They have ceased. But their glory shall 
never cease, 

Nor their light be quenched in the light 
of peace. 

The rush of their charge is resounding 
still 

That saved the army at Chancellorsville. 

Bear with me for a moment while 
I repeat a few lines picturing a scene 
many times enacted during that great 
struggle — a scene which brings back 
to my own mind the vision of a coun- 
try hillside — a home back in New Eng- 
land whence five boys went forth, two 
of them soon to be wrapped in their 
faded blue, and laid down in their 
eternal sleep. 



There were over two hundred thou- 
sand lads in that war who enlisted 
when under seventeen years of age. 

This is a brief story of one of them. 

Out of the clovei- and blue-eyed grass, 
He turned them into the river-lane; 

One after another he let them pass, 
Then fastened the meadow bars again. 

Under the willows and over the hill. 
He patiently followed their sober pace; 

The merry whistle for once was still, 
And something shadowed the sunny 
face. 

Only a boy! and his father said 

He never could let his youngest go: 

Two were already lying dead 

Under the feet of the trampling foe. 

But after the evening work was done. 
And the frogs were loua In the mead- 
ow swamp, 
Over his shoulder he swung his gun, 
And stealthily followed the foot-path 
damp, — 
Across the clover and through the wheat 
With resolute heart and purpose grim. 
Though cold was the dew on his hurry- 
ing feet, 
And the blind bats flittering startled 
him. 

Thrice since then had the lanes been 
white. 
And the orchards sweet with apple- 
bloom; 
And now, when the cows came back at 
night, 
The feeble father drove them home. 

For news had come to the lonely farm, 
That three were lying where two had 
lain; 

And the old man's tremulous palsied arm 
Could never lean on a son's again. 

The summer day grew cool and late; 
He went for the cows when the work 
was done; 
But down the lane, as he opened the 
gate, 
He saw them coming one by one, — 

Brindle, Ebony, Speckle, and Bess, 

Shaking their horns in the evening 
wind. 
Cropping the buttercups out of the 
grass — 
But who was it following close behind? 

Loosely swung in the idle air 

The empty sleeve of army blue; 
And worn and pale, from the crisping 
hair, 
Looked out a face that the father 
knew; — 

For Southern prisons will sometimes 
yawn. 
And vield their dead unto life again; 



And the day that comes with a cloudy 
morn 
In golden glory at last may wane. 

The great tears sprang to their meeting 
eyes; 
For the heart must speak when the 
lips are dumb, 
And under the silent evening skies 
Together they followed the cattle 
home. 

I will close with a poem which fit- 
tingly and pathetically applies to ev- 
ery parade where now the men of the 
Grand Army of the Republic fall in 
line to go forward beneath the flag 
they followed through the vicissitudes 
of war, and which waves in triumph 
over the proudest Nation and the most 
prosperous people of all the earth. 

"See them come. 

With shrill and fife and roll of drum — 
Old, gnarled, storm-beaten, hobbling by, 
The men who breasted joyously 
Wild war's red wave with horrid crest — 
These mighty warriors of the West — 
And keep the flag unstained and bright, 
Eternal emblem of the right! 

"Unbidden tears, 

And leaping hearts and sob-choked 

cheers — 
Involuntary tribute these 
To men who faced the Hoods and Lees' 
They pass! And at their colmn's head 
March the old colors which once led 
The hosts of freedom through the sea 
Of blood and strife to liberty! 

"And as we gaze, 

We seem to see through time-born haze, 
The ebb and flow of long past fights. 
And all the glorious, ghastly sights 
Of war, which, born of human hate, 
Served none the less to make men great! 
Grant, Sherman, Sheridan still lead 
The Nation's hosts in hours of need! 

"No gold could buy 
These tattered flags! We see them fly 
From Lookout's top and on the slope 
Of Gettysburg — a nation's hope, 
We strive for wealth and fame and pow- 
er 
Yet would give all for one great hour 
Of manly grappling with grim death. 
Robed in the cannon's angry breath! 

"So they creep past — 

Those who once charged in war's hot 

blast! 
The nation seems to fall in line — 
The dead are here, the old ensign 
Waves proudly over all; And we 
Pray God to keep us ever free. 
True to our mission, honest, brave 
As those who fought this land to save!" 



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